Pigs Don't Fly
by copperandstars
Summary: Tristan thinks about his feelings for Rory and why he always comes off as such a jerk. Short one parter. PG-13 for language content.


Title: Pigs Don't Fly

Author: copperandstars

Concept: Tristan thinks about his feelings for Rory and why he comes off as such a jerk.

Disclaimer: I own only the concept. This is rated PG-13 for language.

Author's Note: Please read and review. This is my first Trory and only my second Gilmore Girls fiction, so please give me any helpful feedback about my storyline.

* * *

There was something about her smile that made him melt. Yet he couldn't help but be a complete asshole to her every time he saw her. He felt like he had to revert back to second grade torture tactics to make him feel better about this... attraction. It was all theoretical tactics, of course. He never actually pulled her hair or kicked her in the legs, threw food on her during lunch or threw mud on her clothing. He preferred to tease. At least he could semi-express himself that way.

What burned him is that no matter when he tried to be nice, he was always an asshole instead. He couldn't fucking help it. He tried to ask her out on a few dates but her boyfriend was always there. Then again, it was about time he ended up chasing a girl who was impossible to get to. Maybe it was the game that he loved the most. He bought her tickets to P.J. Harvey without knowing who that was. He'd heard that she liked his/her/their music, what it was he wasn't sure. But he had tried. And that was of course right after she and the boyfriend had broken up. And that was of course right before they got back together. If only she could have cared to see the look on his face when she blurted out loud that she hated him. Nothing had ever stung like that before. He cursed her for it.

It was torture for him. All he wanted was for her to realize that he didn't mean it. He'd overheard the boyfriend talk about how he only did it because he liked her. She was a smart girl, she should have been able to figure it out on her own. Why she hadn't, he didn't know. But maybe she did know and didn't want to admit it. Maybe she liked him too, but was so wrapped up in the comforts of her small town life that she didn't want to risk it. Then again, maybe pigs really do fly and tomorrow Hell will freeze over.

He wanted a sign from God. A flying pig, perhaps? Or a knowing glance from those blue eyes. Or maybe they were green. Sometimes he couldn't tell. All he knew was that they were beautiful. Why couldn't he stop being such an asshole to her for crying out loud? He'd never had a problem getting the girl until she came to Chilton. Then again, she wasn't from Hartford. She didn't grow up the same way he and the girls he had in the past had. She was different. A challenge. A really big challenge.

She was his Mary. Every girl had been his Mary. But she was different. Those other girls, they were the Magdalene to his Jesus the Savior. She... she was the Virgin to his Jesus the Babe. He was starting to sound stupid, insane even. Virgin to his Jesus the Babe? He had to get her out of his head before he did something stupid. Another something stupid. He should start a list. It would probably get long very fast.

Every day he saw her it was torture. But every day he saw her, he was happy. If only he could make her see it, she might realize how hard he'd been trying. And maybe pigs fly.

Even when he tried to be nice, they started to argue. She was so frustrating. She never wanted help from him, even when he knew that she knew that she needed it. Like right now, as she was trying to get her locker open for the third time. You would think that she had never used a locker before. She was cute when she was angry. When she was angry and frustrated... maybe pigs really do fly.

He was trying to help her again. But she only got angrier. "Go away, Tristan, I don't need your help." How many times had he heard that line in the last year and a half?

"Get over yourself, Mary. Just shut it and let me help you for once."

"God, you are such an asshole!" Yeah, he already knew that. He always screwed up somehow.

"Fine. But one day you'll wish you had asked for my help, Mary."

"Tristan, the name is Rory." And she stomped away. Away from her locker that wouldn't open. Away from him. Away from the feelings that he just wanted to scream at the top of his lungs.

God damn it, Rory. Why do you do this to me?

Why can't those fucking pigs learn to fly?


End file.
